


Padmé

by Eralk Fang (EralkFang)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, F/M, Genderplay, Incest Play, M/M, Or whatever you call it when you have your sex partner roleplay your grandfather unwittingly, Oral Sex, Pegging, Sexual Roleplay, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-23 04:16:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6104646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EralkFang/pseuds/Eralk%20Fang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This scene always starts like this: handsome knight Anakin finds his beautiful lover, Princess Padmé, in the arms of his nameless Master. In order for him to forgive her, she has to do what he says. It’s a much tamer fantasy than she expected to hear when Kylo had, not meeting their eyes at all, hesitantly outlined this scenario, complete with names and roles. But if what Kylo needs to behave himself and not destroy Imperial property is to pretend he’s a pretty princess and get fucked until he can’t stand, than Phasma can certainly lend a helping hand. </p><p>He could be into something much weirder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Padmé

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [the following prompt at tfa_kink](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1841.html?thread=2012721#cmt2012721):
>
>> Phasma as Darth Vader, Hux as Obi-Wan, and Kylo as Padme.  
> Don't ask. I know I'm trash.
>> 
>> Bonus if Vader's ghost appears at some moment and is scarred forever.
> 
> FUN FACT: Not a lot of people in the _Star Wars_ universe know the following things—that Anakin Skywalker became Darth Vader, that Darth Vader had children, and that Kylo Ren is, in fact, Ben Solo, grandson of Anakin Skywalker. 

After five minutes, Phasma bursts into Hux’s quarters and cries out, in her best Corellian accent (which is atrocious), “Padmé?”

Kylo and Hux turn to stare at her in mock horror (Kylo in horror, Hux in mock) from Hux’s bed, hopelessly entangled. Kylo is on his back, draped in a black sheet, and Hux, on top of him, is already naked, because stars forbid he put any effort into this scene. Phasma huffs at the sight. Hux gets to his knees, pulling Kylo up roughly along with him. 

“Anakin!” Kylo gasps. He clutches the black sheet to his chest, covering his—well, Padmé’s—modesty, and exposing his delectable back and broad shoulders in the process. 

“Master?” She cries out in the same tone, staring at Hux.

“Anakin,” Hux says neutrally, which is actually an improvement over last time.

She joins them on the bed, kneeling. It groans under their combined weight, but it’ll hold. Unlike Kylo’s, which they broke once doing something else. Kylo practically hurls himself into her arms. She catches him, unable to resist squeezing him. “Padmé, how could you do this?” she asks. 

Kylo looks up at her, eyes pleading. “I was weak. I was tempted. I’m sorry.”

Hux crowds closely to them, but she ignores him. This is between Anakin and Padmé. “Did you touch him? Did you make him come? Did you let him come inside you?” 

“No, no, no,” Kylo says in his breathy Padmé voice. 

Phasma kisses him gently. “Would you let him?”

“If you asked me to,” Kylo sighs. 

This scene always starts like this: handsome knight Anakin finds his beautiful lover, Princess Padmé, in the arms of his nameless Master. In order for him to forgive her, she has to do what he says. It’s a much tamer fantasy than she expected to hear when Kylo had, not meeting their eyes at all, hesitantly outlined this scenario, complete with names and roles. But if what Kylo needs to behave himself and not destroy Imperial property is to pretend he’s a pretty princess and get fucked until he can’t stand, than Phasma can certainly lend a helping hand. 

He could be into something much weirder. 

Phasma gently guides Kylo, who takes direction as Padmé like a dream, into turning back to face Hux. She presses herself against his back, humming at the delicious feeling of all that warm flesh against her. She’s only wearing a thin sleeping tunic, the fabric practically nothing between them. Heat coils in her belly.

She slides her arms around him, hands stealing upwards to pass over his nipples and the broad strength of his chest. They’re of a height, but he has more torso where she has more leg, so she has to straighten up as to not dip too far below his shoulder. 

“Can you kiss my master?” she asks, talking into Kylo’s ear but looking at Hux. Kylo nods. She watches from his shoulder as he leans forward, eyes closed, and kisses Hux almost chastely. Hux opens his mouth, and Kylo follows suit, tonguing him with gusto.

She runs her hands down Kylo’s stomach, admiring his abs, but takes care not to give into the temptation of grabbing his cock. He doesn’t like them to touch his cock while he’s being Padmé, for whatever reason. Hux thinks it’s because he’s trying to punish himself, but Phasma thinks it’s just because their pretty princess Padmé doesn’t have one. Pity, though, she quite likes it. 

“Oh, Padmé,” she sighs, nuzzling at his neck. “You’re so beautiful.”

Kylo pulls away from Hux, turning his head back to tell her, “It’s only because I’m so in love with you.” 

Only Kylo’s earnest delivery, breath hot against her mouth, saves the line. Padmé sounds, unsurprisingly, like she’s being played by someone who grew up in an isolated monastery spending more time training in the ways of the Dark Side than talking to women. 

But it’s a fully fleshed out character, despite his heavy-handed and wooden acting, though not strictly accurate. Once, Phasma was so curious about Kylo’s Padmé (such a pretty but old-fashioned name to supposedly pluck out of thin air), that she looked up the name in the historical record. She found a few likely candidates, but the only royal she could find was a Galactic Republican Senator named Padmé Amidala, who was, by all accounts, five foot nothing, well-dressed, and ferocious. 

Phasma wonders what she would make of Kylo’s performance. 

She kisses him, eyes sliding closed, and feels Hux’s cold hand on her cheek. She leans over to kiss him too. There’s a definite difference between Kylo as himself and Kylo as Padmé, but Hux always feels like Hux—urgent and selfish. She rolls her hips against Kylo, who sighs and pulls her face to him. 

Padmé is not terribly good at sharing Anakin with his master. 

She pulls back. “Kiss him again,” she orders. “Touch him. Gently.”

Kylo nods pliantly, and returns his attention to Hux, running his hands down Hux’s slowly flushing chest. Phasma reaches out a hand and traces a line up his torso alongside Kylo’s fingers. Hux groans, smirking back at her. 

She’s rapidly reaching the end of their little warmup—she’s starting to get slick underneath the tunic. She rolls her hips against Kylo, but that’s just pressure, not friction. She turns her attention to Kylo’s handsomely rounded shoulder, mouthing and kissing it. 

She doesn’t see what Hux does, but suddenly, Kylo’s spine tenses like a hissing felinx and Hux pulls away, cursing.

“Not until he says!” Kylo snarls. He’s bitten him, Phasma realizes, gleefully. Hux presses a hand to his mouth, glaring imperiously, an effect rather ruined by his erection. She derives no small pleasure from seeing the general so denied. She smiles into Kylo’s shoulder.

Kylo is breathing furiously. She rolls her hips against him gently and reaches down to skate her fingers across his stomach, skimming his hip bones. Kylo’s breathing evens out and his spine relaxes; a coquettish tilt of the head tells her that he’s relaxed back into character.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” Phasma asks, managing her Corellian accent a little better but unable to keep the smile out of her voice. Hux’s furious eyes settle on her and she makes significant ones back at him.

“I’m sorry,” Hux says, tone resentful.

Kylo twists away from Hux to nestle into her. “What do you want?” she murmurs, petting his hair. 

“I want him to watch you _fuck_ me. I want him to know who I belong to,” Kylo spits. 

Hux’s nostrils flare. Phasma smirks into a heated kiss, Kylo pressing, arching against her. Poor Hux, cheated out of anything but voyeurism by his own selfishness. Serves him right. 

And then she has a better idea.

“Padmé,” she asks, “can you do something for me?”

“Anything, Anakin,” Kylo breathes.

“I want you to use your mouth on him. I want him to come in your mouth.” Kylo groans and nods. Hux’s glare intensifies. That should keep him in line, she thinks. 

With any luck, Kylo will bite him again.

She withdraws from the bed, stripping off her tunic and throwing it on the floor. Kylo darts in to kiss Hux again, pressing against him, pushing him back onto the pillows. There’s a very dignified yelp when Kylo flips them over, more vehemently than strictly necessary. Phasma smiles.

She rarely gets out of this scene without strapping on the shaft, although it’s happened once or twice. The harness straps are warm—she remembered to put the whole kit over the heating tile earlier this evening—and dig pleasingly into her hips and ass. She adjusts the juncture of harness and shaft to better stimulate her clit directly, but it’s a largely futile exercise. She enjoys using it, but she doesn’t get off from it alone. 

When she looks up, Kylo is on all fours between Hux’s legs, focused intently on the cock in his mouth. Her cunt clenches at the sight of Kylo’s hollowed cheeks and Hux’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. She seats herself, awkwardly, on the edge of the bed, to run a hand up Kylo’s long spine. She touches Kylo’s shoulder and runs her hand up into his scalp slowly. He relaxes at her touch, relaxes enough that, with a slight, gentle push, he takes Hux to the hilt. Hux gasps. 

Hux’s hands are fisted in the sheets, presumably to keep from grabbing Kylo’s head. She wonders what would happen if he did. Kylo might bite his cock right off, she muses. Kylo moans around Hux’s cock, and the sound reverberates through his body and into her hands. It makes her cunt ache. 

She moves, settling next to Hux on the bed, curling up to rest her chin on his pale shoulder and resting her left hand on his knee. He’s becoming nicely flushed from Kylo’s ministrations. Kylo looks up at them and locks eyes with her.

“You’re doing so well, Padmé,” she encourages. She kisses Hux, turning his head to do so. His hips stutter at the extra attention. “He’s so close. Can you feel it?”

Kylo nods around his cock; Hux cries out in her mouth.

She smiles. They’re strange bedfellows, true, but she’s learned how to play them against each other to her liking. 

“Make him come for me,” she commands. She slides her hand on Hux’s knee up his inner thigh, brushing the back of her hand against Kylo’s cheek, and Hux gasps as he comes. She nuzzles at Hux’s neck as she watches Kylo swallow and pull off Hux’s softening cock. Her cunt throbs at the sight; she presses her thighs together for a little relief, face twitching. 

She settles further back into the pillows, Hux, always useless after he comes, drowses against her shoulder. She reaches out to Kylo, and Kylo takes her hand delicately as Padmé. Kylo climbs over Hux to straddle her hips, knees pressed into the bed. She looks up at him, taking him all in—sweaty, disheveled, cock red and dripping, as if in response to how wet she is. 

“Kiss me, Padmé,” she commands, voice breathy, and Kylo leans down to do so. He tastes of Hux; she moans into his mouth. He steadies his hands on her breasts, and she arches into the pleasurable pressure as he massages them a little. 

“Oh, Anakin,” Kylo breathes. “I want you so badly…”

“I want to finger you,” she says. “I want to finger you open and make you ready for me.” 

“Yes, yes,” Kylo rasps. He straightens up and leans over to the bedside console for the lubricant. He hands it to her, watching her closely. His gaze scorches her skin.

She squirts some of the lubricant onto her fingers and rubs her thumbs and her fingertips together. Kylo licks his lips and leans over her again to give her better access, bracing his right hand over her left shoulder and his left hand over Hux’s head. Hux is watching, she knows he is, but she can’t spare a thought for him when Kylo’s like this. 

She presses a wet finger against his entrance. Kylo makes a strangled noise as she breaches him and presses, slowly, determinedly avoiding his prostate. Sometimes he comes just from this, but she does want to fuck him tonight. It’s always worth her time.

He takes the second finger with the same strangled noise, and his cock leaks onto her stomach. She groans at the feel of it, feeling herself get wetter in response. She scissors her fingers gently, just to make sure he’s stretched enough, and then, wickedly, crooks them in just the right spot. 

Kylo responds beautifully, arching back against her fingers. She withdraws them, slowly, and watches Kylo shudder.

She shudders, too, when Kylo, face red, eyes soft, sweaty hair plastered to his face, whispers, “I’m so wet, I’m so wet for _you_ , Anakin. Fuck me, Anakin, fuck me, please…”

She reaches behind him to align the shaft against him. As soon as she does, Kylo spears himself on it with a cry. She grunts at both the feel of it, the press and pressure of their bodies moving against each other, and the sight of it, of Kylo, panting, riding her fake cock for all he’s worth.

Phasma matches his intensity, grabbing his hips and slamming into him as hard as she can. She can tell when she hits his prostate because he whines a certain way, a sound that goes directly to her swollen, dripping cunt, separated from him by the harness. 

She loves fucking Kylo like this. She doesn’t have to hold back. Kylo can take everything she’s got, unlike Hux, who only thinks he can. Sometimes, she wouldn’t mind running this scene with just them, no master to get between them, just Padmé and her naked, raw need for Anakin. She groans at the thought. 

Kylo gyrates his hips and rocks back on her false cock, and it’s almost enough, but not quite. Kylo seems utterly transported, mouth open, eyes rolling into the back of his head. She shifts her sweat slick hands from his hips to grope at his ass, pulling him further down on the shaft and closer to her. The head of his cock occasionally drags at her stomach, setting her on fire.

He whines again, and she groans. Kylo leans over her, panting, and surprisingly, drops a kiss on Hux, who stirs sleepily. Kylo kisses her as well, desperately, and she knows he’s close.

“Do you forgive me, Anakin?” he asks. His voice is low and choked. 

“Yes,” she breathes, and she’s too far gone to bother with the accent, thrusting into him mindlessly. “I do, I do.” She kisses his jaw, his throat.

“I love you, Anakin, I love you so much, you’re so good to me.” Kylo chokes out.

Even in character, even in this scene, even so fogged with lust, she’s loathe to tell Kylo that she loves him. She improvises. “Oh, Padmé, I’d marry you if I could.”

Kylo thrusts back onto her with a sob and comes, explosively, onto her stomach. She moans, thrusting into him once more just for the delicious feel of it, however incomplete it is. Her skin suddenly feels like it’s two sizes too small, her cunt still wet and throbbing.

Kylo dismounts awkwardly and lets himself collapse to her right, head on her shoulder. She breathes deeply through her nose, trying to master herself. 

“You haven’t finished,” Hux observes, and Phasma almost starts, despite the fact that he’s been glued to her left side for the last however many minutes. She thought he’d fallen asleep, as he sometimes does.

He does look fit to fall asleep, but he reaches down to fiddle with the harness. While Hux unbuckles the harness, she turns her attention to Kylo. He’s crying a little, tears staining her naked shoulder. He sometimes does after sex, and almost always after they run this scene. It’s intense for him, it must be—who knows what passes for sex education amongst the Knights of Ren? 

Hux unbuckles one side of the harness and slides two fingers over her cunt, squeezing her labia gently together—she suppresses a whine—before gently delving into her. She tugs on Kylo’s hair to kiss him through his tears and comes, groaning, into his mouth, when Hux barely brushes against her clit. 

Hux pumps his fingers in and out of her, riding her orgasm with her, and he knows her responses well enough to withdraw just as she comes down. She opens her eyes—she hadn’t realized she’d closed them—to see Hux licking her slickness off of his fingers, grinning wickedly at her, and she grins back at him, her cunt pulsing weakly at the sight. 

She closes her eyes and lets her head loll against the pillows. There’s a sound of metal as Hux unfastens the harness. She lifts up her hips so he can remove it and settles back into the bed. She feels tired and sticky, but sated and relaxed in a way she hasn’t felt for _weeks_. And not a little victorious, with the general curled up to one side of her and the Master of the Knights of Ren on the other.

Kylo is still crying, but he seems to be letting up. She pets his hair gently, kissing his forehead. (Hux requires no such aftercare.) This was a good go of it, she thinks. She yawns, wondering if she shouldn’t reward Kylo for mangling Hux a little. Maybe something to help him get into character. Something delicate. Something from Naboo.

Something for her beautiful Padmé.


End file.
